Picking Up The Pieces
by Butterfly eye
Summary: "Cause he's gone, In his shadow is it me you see? Cause all that's left is you and I, And I'm picking up the pieces he left behind". How John Watson met Mary Morstan. Rated T for kissing, flirting and murder.
1. Hope For The Hopeless

**A/N: I know Mary Morstan hasn't appeard yet, but I already ship them. And good news for the Sherlock/John shippers in my version they are not going to get married, yet, but don't worry it won't be too fluffy, I hope.**

**||H o p e F o r T h e H o p e l e s s||**

John Watson was arguing with the unmanned checkout machine at the supermarket again, or maybe not arguing; John wasn't yelling at the machine this time, he was too tired, he didn't sleep well.

INSERT CREDIT CARD, the machine said with a robot voice. John tried to insert the card again, it didn't work. CARD NOT AUTHORISED, the robot voice said. The whole queue behind him sighed.

John tried again. CARD NOT AUTHORISED, the machine said again. Now the queue started to grow even more impatient.

"Hey, insert your card or get out!" The man behind him said, he was an American with tattoos that imagined guns and a bomb.

John didn't answer but tried to insert the card once more. CARD NOT AUTHORISED, it said again.

"Ok, enough's enough!" The man with the tattoos said, "Get out!"

When John didn't seem to move, the man pushed him against another checkout machine, John dropped his credit card on the ground. If John was himself he would have hit back, but he didn't. He just stood there.

"I said: get out!" The man said, he was about to push again when a woman stopped him.

"What is going on here?" The woman seemed to be working in the supermarket.

She had big brown eyes, black hair and olive brown skin. _Indian_, John thought, but Indian but without a notable accent.

"This jerk, refuse to move," the man with the tattoos claimed.

The woman turned to look at John.

"Do you have anything to say to that?" She asked, her voice sounded like a police officer that confronted a thief.

John shrugged.

"See! He's admitting it!" The man yelled and tried to hit John.

Mary stopped his hand. "Now it is enough, get out," she said, her voice was calm, but strict.

"Fine," the man said and dropped his grocery bag on the ground, "last time I'm buying anything here, oh, by the way last week I found a mark in one your apples."

He walked out of the store with a big grin and almost the whole queue followed him, complaining about the store's food quality. John followed too as empty handed as he was when he came in.

He was just about to get a cab when the woman from the store ran towards him with a bag of groceries.

"Hey! You forgot your groceries and your credit card," she said slightly out of breath after running from the store.

She handed him his credit card and the bag of groceries. John looked numb on the bag of groceries.

"I didn't pay," he said tired, he wanted to get home and just get to bed.

"No worries," she said, "I did."

John didn't notice before now that she smelled like jasmine. He shook his head.

"I can't accept it," he said even more exhausted.

"You can as well take it," the woman said a little impatient, looked like he wasn't the only one tired, "I can't return it."

Like a sleepwalker he reached after the bag.

"Thank you," he said, meaning it, "Mary."

Her eyes widened.

"How did you-" She noticed her name tag, "Oh, I thought you did something cool."

"I did," John said gave signs for a cab to stop, "I observed it."

She laughed, her breath smelled like mint.

"It was cool," she smiled to him and he smiled back, the first smile for months that wasn't fake.

"I got to get back to work," she said and smiled an apologizing smile.

She turned and walked towards the supermarket.

"Wait!" John yelled, not sure why he did.

She turned to look at him with a surprised expression.

"Do you want to, err take a coffee sometime?" John asked not meeting her eyes.

"I would love too," she said and looked at her watch," I'm done in twenty minutes if you want to wait."

"I'm going to wait," John said and gave signs for the cab to wait for a while.

"Do that," she said, "see you soon Mr Watson."

"How did you-" John started.

"I saw you in a newspaper," she said and winked.

She disappeared into the supermarket again.

John wasn't sure he was happy or sad.

**A/N: Believe it or not this is going to be collection of one shots or this one will maybe be a two shot because of the coffee date. I know seeing John moving on without Sherlock can be painful, but to watch John lonely just break my heart. Oh, some of you may be surprised to see Mary as an Indian but in the original she lived in India for a while, it seemed kind of cool. **


	2. The Wind Cries Mary

**A/N: Sorry for the shortness of the last chapter, see it as a prologue. This one is supposed to be longer. **

**||T H E W I N D C R I E S M A R Y||**

It was Mary's super idea to go to Speedy's café. Speedy's was almost full, but they found themselves a private table in the back of the café.

John almost thought it was a joke; to invite him to a café, only steps from the apartment he and his dead roommate shared. Since she had seen John in the newspaper she would have known what happened to Sherlock Holmes.

_She could be a journalist_, John thought, _one journalist that's after a new scoop. I've had my experience with that kind of women._

John tried to convince himself that it wasn't the case, the case of the _Fake Genius _was growing old and she worked in the supermarket, he saw it himself! John did his best to ignore these thoughts, which was easier than expected.

That day John actually learned a lot, he learned that Mary moved from India to London as a little girl after her mother's death, he learned her father was whit and she'd only met him a couple of times, he learned she had a roommate named Cecil Forrester, he learned that she got fired from her job in the clothing store because she accidentally tore down a mannequin and most of all he learned that he liked Mary Morstan, she wasn't like Mike Stamford and tried to cheer him up all the time nor was she Mrs. Hudson who offered to do anything for him, if it was one thing John hated it was to be treated as a victim, like the time he got home from Afghanistan he never let anyone hold the chair out for him or cook for him, before he met Sherlock.

Mary didn't learn much; John kept his answers short and didn't let out much information. What she got out of him was that he was medical doctor recently returned from Afghanistan, he played clarinet and worked at St Barts. He seemed sad, sort of. Sometimes it could almost look like he was enjoying himself then suddenly his smile would just melt off like ice. Mary had seen his name and picture in the newspaper, she remembered the first time she saw his name. She remembered John because of the funny hat. Her roommate Cecil showed her the article.

"Look!" She had said and pointed at the picture, "Look at the cute men with the funny hats."

The other man's name she didn't quite remember. Mary had just laughed of the article and forgotten about it. The second time she saw John's name was in one of the gossip magazines she sold to a customer when she worked at a newsstand. She never read the article but remembered the title "Bachelor John Watson."

"Soo…" She started, "Do you have many friends?"

"Not many," John said, he did his best to not look sad and looked away.

Mary tried to use the information she got to make a new conversation.

"Do you happen to know a woman named Molly Hooper?" Mary asked.

John stared at her. Mary didn't seen the kind of woman that would be friends with girls like Molly Hooper.

"Do you know her?" He asked shocked.

Mary shrugged her shoulders and looked at him. He wore a black coat over his knitted jumper and wore grey jeans. His hair was blond with some streaks of grey.

_Looks like he knows her_, she thought, _good to hear that Molly have some friends_.

"Well, we're just acquaintances, we went to school together," Mary said, looking at her half empty cup of coffee, Mary knew that if she drank more than a half cup of coffee she wouldn't be able to sleep for days.

"Oh, really?" John said half interested, he hadn't talked to Molly for months and he didn't really want to either, too many bad memories came to him when he saw her, she was one of the last people who saw Sherlock before he was laid in the ground.

John blinked to keep the tears away and cleared his throat, pretending he coughed.

He looked at Mary, trying to use Sherlock's methods of deductions. He failed to see anything he didn't already know. John couldn't decide if she was extremely beautiful or just plain normal. Her black hair was curly and reached her shoulders. She used a little mascara. She wore mostly blue, he assumed blue was her favorite color. She wore blue jeans, a blue jacket over green her t-shirt with the supermarkets logo on and a simple pearl necklace around her neck. She met his staring gaze and looked fast away. She checked her watch. The time was 4:50.

"This has been really fun, but by butt has fallen asleep so I think it's best for me to go," Mary said.

She got her purse and gave John an apologizing smile. She rose from her chair and walked towards the door, weird enough John followed, not caring enough to pay. It didn't seem like anyone noticed anyway. Outside the café it rained and the streets was empty of people. Mary who waved for a cab was already soaked. As a reflex she turned to see who came out of the door.

"Do you have a habit of running after people?" She asked, or shouted because of the loud sound of the rain.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-" John started, but got interrupted by the owner of the café.

"Hey! You know you have to pay!" The owner shouted after them from the door, trying not to become wet.

The owner was a big man with a big red beard.

"It was only two cups of coffee!" John shouted back.

Now he was soaked. Mary rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Do I have to pay everything for you today?"

From her purse she got her wallet and paid the owner. He gave John a

deadly glare and stormed into the café again. Mary looked down on her soaked shoes.

"Damn it! Those shoes were new!" She said and cursed.

Her wet mascara made her look like an angry raccoon, but of course John didn't say that aloud. She was one of the few women in the world that still looked fine with it. She sighed.

"Those times I wear mascara it has to rain!" She said, more annoyed than angry.

Maybe he just didn't want to be alone or maybe he just wanted to help, either way he invited her to his apartment to get dry. Mary gave him a grateful look.

"Thank you," she simply said, she lived on the other side of town and she knew Cecil would get furious and curious if she got home wet.

"It isn't far," John promised, he didn't know why but he felt sort of relived.

_Empty_. And quiet. That was the first words that struck her when she saw his apartment, because it was empty. It had no signs of someone even living in it. The apartment itself wasn't big; one bedroom, one bath and one kitchen and a living room in one. The living room had one sofa, one table, a cheap TV and a little bookshelf. The apartment was on its own way creepy, like a scene from a horror movie where a monster will in any moment appear and scare everybody. The whole apartment seemed to be painted in the same color, beige.

John helped her take off her wet jacket and hung it up on a clothes hanger. She moved towards the bookshelf. She had a habit of studding people's books.

_Books can tell more about a person than you would ever imagine, _her father once told her. She had herself a big book collection, most romance novels or fantasy novels. Mary saw herself as a hopeless romantic. Mary wasn't sure what the books were saying about John. In John's bookshelf it was one _Simple Art of Murder, _two Edgar Allan Poe books_, _four Agatha Christie novels and over ten other crime and psychology books.

"What do you think?"

She turned to see John with two cups of tea. He gave her one of them.

"Well, I can honestly say that I have read none of them," Mary said and took a sip of her tea.

"You don't read crime or mystery books?" He asked and nodded towards the sofa, inviting her to sit.

She sat down and sat her cup of tea on the table.

"I did as a child, but not anymore." She said, "Won't you sit down?"

The sofa was big enough for them both and John sat down.

"I'm thinking about becoming one," John said, not meeting her eyes.

Mary froze and sat her tea cup back in its saucer.

"What?" She asked, "a criminal?"

John laughed.

"No, a crime writer," he said.

"Oh, that's something quite different," Mary said and tried to do her best not to look embarrassed.

They sat like that for a while, not saying anything. Mary caught her reflection on the black TV screen. Her wet mascara made her look like a stupid raccoon and her hair looked like a bird's nest. She sighed.

"Can I use your bathroom?" Mary said and rose from the sofa.

John rose too and pointed on a door on the left side of the room. She smiled and disappeared into the bathroom.

After ten minutes Mary came out from the bathroom again. Her hair was back to normal and her wet mascara was gone. She looked warm and dry.

"I think it's time to go," Mary said, "Cecil will start to wonder where I am."

She got her jacket from the clothes hanger and took it on.

John opened the door for her. From her purse she gave him a note, her phone number and address. Her writing wasn't exactly beautiful, but readable. John couldn't help to smile, he was about to close the door when Mary called for him.

"When you start your book, please make me into a character!"

When John got back inside his apartment he sat down by his laptop in his room. He opened a new document and made the title "The Wind Cries Mary".

John wasn't sleeping at all that night, he was writing on his new book. The book was about a great man and a genius, a helper and a friend and a saving grace called Mary.

**A/N: I think in the original stories John started as an detective, but I can't see that in this version. Anyway I was thinking about making this a whole story instead of a collecting of one-shots. What do you think I should do? And if you have an idea of what you want to see in the next chapter you can just say it on a review or say it to me in a message.**


	3. We Found Love

**A/N: This will be a whole story! Whooo! Here's the next chapter by the way. **

**||W E F O U N D L O V E||**

John tapped his fingers against his desk, making a forever lasting melody. He hasn't slept for two days and he had only stopped writing to check his E-mail. He wished he didn't. He had been staring at the E-mail for fifteen minutes.

_Mr. John Watson._

_We in the Starstruck film company wish to make a motion picture of your late friend Sherlock's life, from his birth to his death. Your character will also appear in the motion picture._

_You will be given permission to read the script when it is done and change anything if you need to. If you wish you will help pick the actor that will be playing Sherlock Holmes._

_If you are interested call the number below and we will arrange a meeting to discuss things like money and permission._

_Signed_

_Starstruck Film Company_

John was tempted to just write an E-mail back and just write no, but he decided not to. John wrote down the number and deleted the E-mail. He started on his story again, but his inspiration was gone. John found his phone and called another number.

"Mary Mostan," the voice on the other side said.

John smiled of the sound her voice. She sounded tired. He looked at his watch and saw that the time was seven in the morning. John was surprised; it felt like noon to him.

"Hey, it's John Watson," he said.

"Oh, John, I was afraid you wouldn't call back," Mary said and yawned.

"Sorry, I have been busy. Is it a change to see you today?" He said and crossed his fingers.

"Well, It's Sunday and I'm not going to work, so yes, it's a big chance for that," Mary said and laughed.

"Great, at my apartment?" John asked and walked towards the kitchen.

"Fine, see you in about an hour," Mary said and hung up.

John sat the phone down and started to make coffee and then it recurred to him that he hadn't change clothes for two days.

He went into his bedroom again and changed clothes. He changed to blue jeans and a white sweater. Then he brushed his teeth and shaved. He was almost done shaving when it rang at the door. He jumped by the doorbells electric buzz and cut his cheek; a blood drop ran down his cheek, but he was too busy with opening the door to notice. Mary looked shocked on his bloody cheek, but then just laughed.

"Someone has been a little unlucky with the shaving," she said and pointed to his cheek.

John held his hand against his cheek; his hand was red with blood.

Mary laughed; her laughter reminded him of bells. She found a plaster in her purse and sat it on his cheek.

"Maybe you should be a little more careful with the shaving," Mary joked.

John chuckled.

"I've felt worse," he said and thought about his adventures in Afghanistan.

"I bet you have," Mary said, "are you going to invite me in or not?"

John noticed that he stood in the doorway. John smiled apologizing and moved away from the doorway. Mary smiled thankfully and walked inside his apartment. She didn't wear mascara at all this time; she would probably never wear mascara again. Her hair was straightened out and she wore shorts and a colorful top. She hung her jacket on the same clothes hanger as before. She didn't wear anything blue except her high-heeled shoes. Around her neck she was still wearing the same pearl necklace. She didn't smell like jasmine this time, this time she smelt like vanilla. _Maybe she'd changed perfume, _John thought. John had made his decision; she was pretty, she wasn't ugly nor beautiful, but she was just pretty. Her big brown eyes made her look kind and loving, that's may be why she decided to have short hair, it made her look more tough and brave. Mary interrupted his thoughts.

"Is it a special reason you asked me to come?" Mary asked concerned.

"No, not at all," John said, "tea or coffee?"

John said the first part of the sentence very fast.

"What? Oh, tea, please," Mary said.

She did as before and walked towards his bookshelf. _He is worried about something_, Mary thought, _he's just hiding it._ His book shelf was the same as before.

"I looked you up on the internet yesterday," Mary said and touched the back of the book_ Simple Art of Murder._

John froze for a second, but pretended nothing happened. The conversation sounded like one he had before.

"Did you find something interesting?" John said, not meeting her eyes.

"I found your blog," Mary said, "interesting."

"Do you think so?" John said and handed her tea cup.

"Of course," they sat on the sofa again like two days before.

For about an hour nothing happened, they talked about everything and nothing and laughed. When this hour ended John coughed.

"I lied," John said, "it is a reason why I asked you to come."

_I knew it! _Mary thought to herself, but kept calm and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I need an advice," John said, his eyes not leaving hers.

Mary felt weirdly touched; that a man she only known for a couple of days asks her for an advice. She could easily say that it has never happened before. Mary had never been good with men, in her whole life she'd only had three boyfriends and two of them were childhood friends.

"Why do you need an advice?" Mary asked confused

_And why do you ask me? _Mary thought.

Mary had never needed to ask anyone for advice; she had found her answers on internet, mostly because she'd never had someone to ask.

"It's about my late friend," John said, he wasn't sure how to say it.

"That Sherlock Holmes guy?" Mary asked.

She remembered Sherlock Holmes from his blog, he was supposed to be a genius, but was proved to be a fake. For a second John's eyes were full of anger, but it disappeared fast.

"Yes, him," John said, hesitating.

John always got angry if he heard someone said someone bad about Sherlock, but after many months the anger just made him tired.

"I got an offer," John started.

"Oh, is it about your book?" Mary asked. "Did you make me into a character?"

"No, it's not about that, but I actually did," John said and saw Mary smile.

"Then what?" Mary said, she thought John was milking it a little too much.

"I got an E-mail from an American film company," John and took a deep breath, "they want to make Sherlock's life into a movie."

"Really? What did you say?" Mary asked surprised.

"I haven't answered yet, that's why I'm asking you," John said.

"I've read the article about his life on the internet," Mary said, "will the movie be about that?"

John nodded sadly.

"Yes."

"You don't believe that he was a fake, do you?" Mary asked softly.

"I know, he wasn't a fake," John said surely.

Mary took a big breath and sighed.

"I believe you," Mary said and took his hand.

"What?" John said surprised.

"I don't believe anything that is written in gossip magazines," Mary said, trying to make a joke.

"Thank you," John whispered and smiled.

His hand closed around hers. Mary was pretty sure she saw a tear in his eye.

"So if you know that the movie will portray him like that, why don't you just say no?" Mary asked confused.

"Because I have read about that studio, if I refuse they will just change the names and dates. They will change everything except the storyline. If I say yes now, I have the permission to read and change the script if I want to, and may clean Sherlock's name a little bit," John said, his voice was shaking.

He looked at her with sad eyes. He looked like a very broken man. It is like if he has aged ten years in a couple of seconds.

"If I were you I would have thanked yes," Mary said, "that's what I would have done, I have no idea what you would do."

Mary shrugged sadly and looked at their hands.

"I have to think about it," John said and sighed.

"Of course you are," Mary said and smiled nervously.

"Thank you," John said again.

"No problem," Mary said.

They sat like that in another five minutes, not saying anything, not even looking at each other, but just holding hands. John felt the need to break the silent.

"How's your roommate?" He suddenly asked.

"Cecil? Oh, she's fine," Mary said, a little shocked by the question.

"No, I mean how _is _she?" John said.

"Oh, she's, well, good with hiding her feelings and she has a, err, special type of humor," Mary said.

Mary as been friends forever, or at least since university. Cecil was the complete opposite of Mary. Cecil had light skin and blonde hair, or at least dyed blonde hair. Cecil had enough of boyfriends and girlfriends, yes, Cecil was bisexual. Cecil worked as a club and bar singer, but her work didn't pay well, that's why they became roommates. Together they had enough money to pay for a little apartment in south London.

"She sounds nice," John lied.

_She sounds rather scary, _John thought.

"She is when you get to know her," Mary said, not buying his lie.

_We found Love _by Rihanna started playing from Mary's purse. She let go of John's hand to get her phone. Mary cursed when she saw who were calling.

"Hey, Cecil," Mary said, a little too cheerful, "I was just talking about-"

Mary got interrupted by Cecil. She stopped talking to listen.

"What do mean you lost the key?" Mary said shocked.

She stopped to listen again. Their conversation lasted long enough. Once in a while Mary sighed or rolled her eyes. After about seven minutes Cecil allowed Mary to talk again.

"I'm coming, relax."

Mary hung up and gave John an apologizing smile.

"Sorry, but Cecil just lost her key and she just got home and she's really impatient," Mary apologized fast.

With a hurry she got her jacket and stormed out the door.

"That's fine," John mumbled, after she disappeared.

She'd only taken her third step outside before she remembered something. She stormed back in and gave John a light kiss on his cheek, then she disappeared again. This time John really was frozen.

The homeless man, or just Dirty Rick as his friends calls him, observed the woman storm out of the apartment, but she turned and ran inside again. When the woman ran out again, she was blushing. The woman gave him no notice, no one ever do so. After the woman got into a cab and drove away, he ran towards the nearest telephone booth.

**A/N: Wow, I updated fast, but don't worry it won't become a habit. If anybody cares the name of the chapters comes from different songs, I just love doing that.**


	4. Carmen

**A/N: Long time no see. Sorry. I've had many sorts of tests in the last weeks. Anyway here is the new chapter. Btw, I love tips. **

**||Carmen ||**

He put his phone down. He didn't know if he was sad or relived. He had never been good with recognizing feelings or emotions at all. He stared through the window. He saw a full moon and a dark sky, the clouds was slowly covering the moon. It wasn't many people on the streets that night, mostly drunks or people who was working late. In the distant he heard the sound of Big Ben. Sherlock Holmes laughed to himself. Him? Sad? Ridiculous!

Mary always woke up early, but not necessarily getting up. Just lay there on the bed and listen to the monotone song of the birds.

_Tweet. Tweet. Tweet._

The same song, over and over again, they sounded tired, like they only sung because they had to, not because they wanted to. Maybe the dull, quiet street sucked the life of them too, just like it did to Mary. Mary turned in bed and ended with the pillow over her head. She couldn't stop thinking of the yesterday: John, Sherlock, the advice, Cecil's key, everything.

Mary closed her eyes again and sighed. Cecil never stopped asking questions. Mary just wanted to yell at her to shut up, but of course she didn't, she never did. Who else would help her with the rent?

Mary just ignored her. Went into her room and locked the door. Some of the questions she didn't even know the answer on herself.

_How is he actually?_

_Is John your boyfriend?_

To be honest she didn't know. John was so secretly, so sad and secretive. And they only been on one date, two if you count the visit. They could impossible be a couple. Yet something made her hope they were. She turned in her bed again.

Mary groaned. She sounded like a lovesick teenager! She had promised herself never end up like that, she was a grown woman for God's sake! She looked at the kitty formed watch over the door. The hands of the clock were the cat's whiskers. Five O'clock in the morning. Mary tried to block the thoughts away. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep and so she did.

She dreamed about four, beautiful pearls. They were in the bottom of the ocean. She saw sharks and other fish swimming behind them. She knew it was a dream, but it looked like they were right in front of her. The pearl was talking to each other, but Mary didn't hear anything. Then the dream changed. She saw four intersections that disappeared in the dark.

When Mary woke up it felt like she had slept for days. Eight O'clock the cat said. _Time to get up_, she thought to herself.

The kitchen was as depressing as rest of the apartment. The once white walls were now beige and the floor tiles were loose. Mary sighed. She wished she had a better job, a job that could afford a better apartment. Mary took a bowl of cereal for breakfast.

_Stop complaining, _Mary thought, _you already got a job, many people don't even have that. _

Mary didn't taste anything, she chew and swallowed, but tasted nothing. She didn't even notice that she had eaten up everything before the spoon hit the bottom of the bowl. She got up and washed the bowl. Mary was lost in her own thoughts when Cecil woke up. Cecil was a beautiful woman, she perfectly knew how to walk into a room and make people look at her. Like a primadonna on stage. Her dyed, blonde hair looked like a rats nest and she had bags under her eyes. She yawned and scratched the back of her neck. She wore her grey pajamas and her big glasses that made her eyes look twice as big. She didn't look at all as the glamorous bar singer she used to be at work, but she still had this way of making everyone adore her.

"Slept well, Cecil?" Mary asked without much interest and wiped her hands on a towel.

"What? Oh, fine," Cecil sat down on the kitchen chair. Mary begged that she wouldn't ask any questions, but as always Cecil proved her wrong.

"Have you been thinking about Prince John lately, Mary?" Cecil studied her with big eyes. It felt like she read Mary's thoughts.

"Mind your own business," Mary replied. She meant it to sound serious, but she sounded like an angry teenager. Cecil didn't seem to mind though.

"Someone is a little touchy today," Cecil said with her mocking voice. Mary tried to find suitable argument, but decided to go classy.

"Shut up, Cecil."

John woke up on the keyboard. His check had marks from the keyboard. He had fallen asleep in the end of the story. John couldn't find a suitable ending. He promised himself to find a good ending later. John started to check his E-mail. It was over ten E-mails from the film studio, he deleted all of them without even reading them. He still hadn't E-mailed them back yet.

Half asleep he put on his green dressing gown and got breakfast. He settled with a bowl of cereal too. He was just about to turn the TV on when his phone rang. The number was quite familiar.

"Hello, Greg," John greeted.

"Good morning, John," Lestrade even sounded more tired than John, "I hate to bother you, but I need your help."

John blinked. What did Lestrade need of him? They hadn't talked to each other since Sherlock's funeral.

"With what?" John asked, suddenly curious. Lestrade hesitated, like he had forgotten what to say.

"I need help on a case. I know you're no longer a detective, but I need an assistant on this case, John," Lestrade said.

Now it was John's time to hesitate. He knew he didn't have Sherlock's skills in deduction and analysis, actually he'd never known someone with Sherlock's skills at all, well, maybe only Mycroft and Moriarty.

"I thought the Chief Superintendent forbid any kind of help from amateurs," John said and smiled of the thought of the Chief Superintendent's broken nose.

Lestrade coughed and John knew what he was about to say.

"Well, he doesn't know."

"What about Anderson and Sally?"

"They are both busy."

John looked out of the window and stared at the rain. Thinking of the last case he had and how badly it turned out.

"No," he said. He could almost hear Lestrade's disappointment through the phone. A long awkward silent followed.

"As you want John," Lestrade said, even though you could hear that he wasn't pleased, "I won't make you do things you don't want to, but if you change your mind, I'm open for suggestions."

Then he hung up. John stood a couple of minutes that way, turned to the window with the phone in his hand. He jumped when the phone rang. It was Ella, his therapist. John didn't answer, suddenly the whole day seemed like torture and the last thing he wanted to do was to talk about his feelings, but on the same time he felt lonely and bored. John sighed and swallowed his pride. He called back Lestrade.

It was a murder, or that's at least what Cecil heard, the awful she-devil next door was dead. To be honest, Cecil was kind of relived. She'd never liked that woman anyway, Carmen Gomez; beautiful, but naïve and paranoid, always thinking someone was after her jewelry. Even though she didn't like her Cecil did have a little compassion with Carmen's family and fiancée.

Cecil could barley go out the door, the corridor was full with crime scene tape and police officers. Cecil decided to be nice and not disturb anyone. She stood in the doorway and tried to look as invisible as possible. From the nearest door two men got out. One of them looked like a police man, the other man looked familiar, like from a magazine or newspaper. The police man wore a black jacket over a white shirt and black pants. The other one was the familiar one, without the hat on this time. He had a green coat over a green jumper and jeans.

"Did you figure something out?" The police man asked the other. The familiar man shook his head and sighed

"Nothing special," he said. He met Cecil's glance.

"Have you asked the neighbors if they saw anything?" The familiar man said. The police man looked at her and nodded towards her.

"Not yet." The police man and the familiar man walked towards Cecil. The police man showed her his police patch, like she needed proof. She could have seen he were a police man fifty miles away.

"Miss, we need to ask you some questions," the police man said, his voice was kind, but determined, "I'm detective inspector Lestrade and this is John Watson." Lestrade gestured to the other man. The other man nodded.

Cecil smiled, mostly to John. He didn't seem to notice. She could see what Mary liked about him, his kind eyes and cute smile, but Cecil still preferred Sherlock.

"Of course, come in." Cecil stepped aside and let the two men into the apartment and closed the door.

"What is your name miss?" John asked, prepared to write down her name on a black notepad.

"My name is Cecil Forrester," Cecil said and looked at John for a reaction, but he didn't raise his glance from the notepad, "I live in this apartment with my friend, Mary Morstan."

John looked up from the notepad with a shocking look on his face. _Bingo!_ She thought to herself. Lestrade didn't notice John's reaction and continued.

"As you might know Carmen Gomez was found dead in her apartment and I would like to know everything you know about her. Did she have any enemies or people who didn't like her?" Lestrade asked.

Cecil smiled of his choice of words.

"Well, I didn't like her, but that doesn't mean I killed her," Cecil said.

"No, of course not," Lestrade hurried to say, "anybody else?"

Cecil thought for a while. _Yes_, she wanted to say, _Mary, _but she didn't. Cecil shrugged and smiled innocently like she's done many times before.

"No, sorry."

"Anything at all?" Lestrade asked, obviously disappointed.

"Hmm, the last one I saw go into the apartment was her brother, I saw him when I went out for a walk this morning," Cecil said, "I think they were very close, have you told him yet?"

Cecil heard a car door close. She moved towards the window and looked out. It was raining again and she saw Mary struggling to hold a bag of groceries and lock the car door on the same time. It was actually Cecil's time to buy the groceries, but of course she had "forgotten" it again. Cecil smiled.

"Not yet," Lestrade said and followed her glance, "that's Mary I suppose."

John stood on his tip toes to get a better look. Lestrade turned and gave John a confusing look, but John just shook his head irrelevant. After a couple of minutes high voices came from the corridor:

"Miss, you can't go here!"

"Of course I can, I live here!"

Mary came bursting through the door with two police men in her heels. She wore a long brown coat over a blue blouse and white jeans. She froze when she saw John, almost making the police men run into her.

"Cecil, what's going on?" Mary asked consfusing.

"Good news; Carmen's dead!"

Mary was sitting on the armchair while Cecil sat on the sofa, Lestrade and John preferred to stand. The sound of the rain hitting the roof was very loud and they could hear the wind through the window. John and Mary tried not look at each other, but even Lestrade could feel the awkward silence between them.

"A murder?" Mary said disbelieving "Here?"

Cecil laughed. She always had a way to find something funny in something serious.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" She said_. She'd obviously watched too much CSI,_ Mary thought and rolled her eyes.

Ignoring Cecil's comment Lestrade said: "Yes, Carmen Gomes is dead, poisoned."

"Poisoned? I was hoping for something better," Cecil mumbled and got her telephone out of her pocket.

"I don't know what to say," Mary said.

"Just answer these questions Miss Morstan," Lestrade said, "Do you know of anyone that would hurt Carmen?"

"No one," Mary said, "except me."

John dropped the notepad and Lestrade blinked. Cecil shook her head and gave Mary a look that yelled "_Idiot!" _Mary just shook her head and gave Cecil a brave smile. John bent down to get the notepad, but his eyes were burned into Mary.

"Why you, Miss Morstan?" Lestrade asked. Mary hesitated, trying to find words that would fit. She looked down on her hands and suddenly felt unbelievable tired. The rain stopped hitting the roof and made an uncomfortable silent's in the room. The birds slowly began singing their monotone songs again.

"Well, when I worked for Carmen Gomes as a housekeeper, certain things… just disappeared, if you understand what I mean," Mary suddenly got very interested in an invisible stain on her blouse.

John stared at her with open mouth, but closed it when Lestrade looked at him. A short looked past between them.

"Did you steal those things, Miss Morstan?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course not!" Mary said and rose from the armchair. "What would I do with that jewelry, anyway?"

Mary looked like she was about to cry. She could see John fighting his instincts to go to her and support her.

"Calm down, Miss Morstan," Lestrade said. "Did she report you to the police?"

Mary nodded and sighed.

"They never found the jewelry, but I was found guilty, but I swear I didn't do it," Mary said and her face turned red.

"I believe her," that was the first thing John had said through the whole questioning.

Lestrade's eyes switched between John and Mary. Making it look like he was watching tennins.

"I guess you two have met each other before."

"She seems nice," Lestrade said while they examined the body. The body was placed on a red stretcher. They were in the corridor. The walls was painted white, but now looked beige. Most of the police men was gone, the ones that still was there was taking pictures of the crime scene.

John studied the dead woman's face. She looked like she was sleeping. _Overdose_ _morphine, _John guessed was the cause of death. The woman had thick brown hair, high cheekbones and dark skin. She was beautiful in other words. John could safely say that she was beautiful or at least she was.

"How do you know?" John asked while he checked her eyes. Her eyes were big and brown.

"It looks like you like her," he said and shrugged.

John blinked, then he understood he meant Mary and not the dead woman on the stretcher. He hesitated, he didn't know what to say or what to call her. He just shrugged indifferent and hoped Lestrade would just let it be.

"Okay, I think she died around 9 o'clock, overdose morphine I guess is the cause of death," John said while he wrote it down on his notepad.

"Looks like it," Lestrade said. His phone rang in his pocket. He apologized to John and answered. John covered the woman's face with the white sheet.

"Okay, we're coming," Lestrade hung up and turned to John, his face was serious and hard. "It's her brother, he's dead too."


End file.
